


Just Us

by tealightwhimsy



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealightwhimsy/pseuds/tealightwhimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint won't talk to anybody about Loki or his nightmares. Steve would like to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sullacat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/gifts).



It always started with a warm embrace.  Steve would get up to the knock at his bedroom door at two in the morning and let the archer in.  After closing the door, he would turn to find the smaller man already in his arms.  There was always a moment of startling realization at how perfectly he and Clint fit in this embrace quickly followed by his melting into it.  They would stay like that for long minutes before finally parting.  

They never mentioned the hug or said anything else by way of greeting.  Instead, Clint would take up residence on Steve's sofa and either quickly fall asleep or stay up watching television.  On those nights when Clint chose the television, Steve would stay up with him.  Every night, something new would flash across the screen bringing up endless questions in Steve’s mind.  Clint always had an answer – sometimes teasing Steve for his naïveté and sometimes just straight and to the point.  Although the teasing made him blush, Steve enjoyed it more than a sullen archer. 

On this night, he had made Clint grin and laugh out loud at the question, “So, we have a flying man and a flying helicarrier…why don’t we have flying cars, yet?” and a warm feeling had blossomed inside of him.  He enjoyed bringing out this reaction in the other man – even if it was at his own expense.  Clint had finally looked over at him, only to burst into laughter again.  “I don’t know, man…maybe ask Tony?”  

The laugh lines creasing Clint’s eyes pleased Steve and he gave a small laugh at nothing.  It was amazing to him how much had changed in the archer in just the past six months.  Back then, no one had ever seen him smile. 

_Six Months Before…_

They were going at it.  Again.  Steve sighed into his breakfast cereal as the voices around him tried to convince Barton, yet again, to at least consider one psych session at SHIELD. The whole conversation seemed a little hypocritical considering the rest of the team’s penchant to avoid their own sessions but he could understand where they were coming from.

No, Barton was no longer compromised but they could also see the dark circles under his eyes and took note of the fact that, more often than not, he could be found wide awake in the middle of the night; his eyes staring listlessly at the television.  None of the team expected details on Barton’s time with Loki, or his troubles now, but he had even stopped speaking with Tasha. 

 

“Look, all we’re saying is to think about it,” said Tony, voice calm but resolute. 

The sound of a chair screeching against the floor brought Steve’s head back up as Clint abruptly left the breakfast table.  There was a moment of pause in the tension-filled room before Tony turned to him. 

“Thanks for the help, there, Cap!” he said; ever-present false cheerfulness in his tone. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Steve was not in the mood, this morning. 

“Only that a few words from you just might have been forthcoming.” 

“Oh, so now this is my fault?  Why would he need to hear anything from me when he’s got Iron Man giving him advice?”  Steve knew Tony’s frustration was causing him to lash out at the nearest target but he couldn’t help rising to the bait.  

“Aren’t you our fearless leader?” Tony responded in kind, eyes flashing coldly. 

At that, Steve left his own scrape marks across the floor as he pushed his chair back from the table and stormed out of the room. 

He was not surprised to find Barton in the gym already in the throes of target practice.  Upon his entering the room, the archer fixed Steve with a cold, almost challenging stare.  Despite Tony’s bait, Steve had not come looking for Barton.  All he wanted was a nice long session with his punching bags so he merely nodded and walked over to his own corner.  The solid thwack of arrows finding their mark became a steady rhythm behind him. 

Although Steve felt Barton needed help with his nightmares and the aftermath of Loki, he felt psych sessions were not a subject he had the authority to broach with the other man.  Yes, Steve dutifully attended his own sessions but, truth be told, he was not quite sure they were helping.

He answered the questions asked of him truthfully and honestly and even put effort into some of the exercises suggested.  Meditation, he felt, did help him relax but journaling always led him to sketching the ever-stranger world around him.  Every new detail, though fascinating, seemed to widen the gulf he felt between himself and those around him; which only added to his growing loneliness and frustration.  And his nightmares…nothing helped the nightmares. 

Without being able to answer in the affirmative as to the usefulness of his sessions, he found it difficult to suggest them to the archer.  Still, he wanted to help and, when they were both winding down from their workouts, Steve finally broke the silence. 

“I find this place helpful when I have nightmares.” 

Barton paused only briefly with what he was doing but didn’t look up at Steve. 

“Oh, yeah?” he said, voice neutral. 

“Yes.  You’re less likely to bump into anyone here in the middle of the night and having something to punch helps work out the…frustration.” 

“Hm,” was the archer’s only reply before walking out of the room. 

Two nights later, Steve finds himself waking in a cold sweat. Immediately, he jumps out of bed and pulls on his sweats; desperate for the sterile walls and rhythmic routine to push the nightmare still etched behind his eyes out of his mind.  Instead, he finds Clint huddled on the floor, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.  Steve wonders if he should leave but then the archer looks up at him and Steve steps fully inside the room. 

“I could have stopped him,” Clint says thickly.  “I could have stopped him…”

“No, no….” says Steve, closing the distance between them.  He leans down next to the archer and puts a hand on his shoulder. “No, Clint, there was nothing you could have done.”  Barton shakes his head. 

“You weren’t there.  Everything I did…I knew what I was doing.  Wanted to do it…” he quickly turned his face away from Steve.  

“Clint,” Steve says, trying to bring reassurance into his voice and into the grip he has on the archer’s shoulder. “You know Loki is not human.  What he did…none of us could have stopped it.” 

“Tony did.” 

“That’s only because Loki only touched Tony’s arc reactor.  His magic couldn’t permeate the metal.  One inch to the right or left and who knows what might have happened?”  

Clint brought his hands up and rubbed them over his face.  “I know.  I _know_ that Steve…just…I don’t know…”  When Clint brought his hands back down, he was no longer crying but his face looked lost and empty.  Steve brought his arm fully around Clint’s shoulder and pulled him closer. 

“I know,” he said.  “You know it but you don’t feel it.”  Clint looked up at Steve and nodded.  “What if it happens again?” he asked in a small voice. 

Steve knew better than to give Barton false assurances that it would never happen again.  That next time they would be prepared.  Clint was a master assassin, not a child. 

“Then we’ll deal with it,” he said. “Together.” 

Clint looked at him for long pause and then nodded; Clearing his throat and rubbing his hands over his face again. 

“What a sight I must be, huh?  Crying like a girl…”  Steve squeezed Clint’s shoulder again. 

“Stop it!  You’ve been through a lot…pent up frustration has to come out somehow.  Everyone cries at some point.  They’re lying if they tell you any different.” 

“Please!” Clint scoffed.  “Like you’ve ever cried, Cap!” 

“Of course I have,” answered Steve.  Clint only side-eyed him. 

“Nice try, Cap!  Thanks, anyway.” Steve could see Clint’s armor starting to go up as he turned and started moving away from him.  Suddenly, a desperation grabbed hold, deep inside of him. 

“I…lost a friend,” he said.  “From before.”  Clint stopped and turned back, meeting his eyes.  Steve could count on one hand the number of times he had spoken about Bucky.  He paused for a moment but then quickly related the story to Clint.  When it came to the image forever etched behind his eyes of Bucky's face as he fell, he froze, and could only look into Clint’s eyes as he searched for the words.  A hand gripped his own shoulder and he realized that tears were starting to fall from his own eyes. 

“I'm sorry, Clint.  This isn't about me,” he said, quickly rubbing his own face.  “I don’t know why I brought that up…I…”

Before he knew it, Clint had closed the distance between them and embraced the taller man.  At first it felt odd – Steve wasn’t used to hugs, let alone with other men – but the oddness quickly fell away and turned into warmth and comfort.  They held each other for a long time, even after the ache in their knees as they kneeled on the hardwood floor became sharp and unyielding.  When they finally separated, Clint looked at him not with pity but with a deep understanding in his eyes. 

The next night, Clint began knocking on Steve’s door at 2:00am. 

_Present Day_

Steve didn’t realize he was still staring at Clint until the archer turned and caught his gaze. 

“What?” Clint asked, bringing his hand up to his face as if to wipe away a smudge. 

“Why?” Steve asked.  “Why did decide to talk to me that night?  Why not Tasha?” 

Clint looked confused and then a small embarrassed smile ran over his face. 

“Um…it wasn’t really much of a choice, Steve.  You sort of walked in on me, remember?” 

Steve blushed and looked down.  He had forgotten that Clint’s admission had been borne out of a moment of emotional outburst.  Steve could have been anybody who had walked in at that moment. 

“Hey,” Clint said and reached out to grip Steve’s shoulder.  “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Steve said, too quickly, but couldn’t quite bring his eyes back up. Clint gave a deep sigh. 

“I’m glad it was you,” he said after a moment’s silence.  At that, Steve did look up.  “When you walked in, I’m glad it was you because you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t push and you wouldn’t stand back and just watch like I was some freak show.  I knew from even before…when you asked me to suit up after Lo—“ Clint stopped and closed his eyes for a second.  

”I knew you would understand.  And you did.  Tasha…Tasha understands but…” he huffed out a breath and looked away.  Steve realized he was holding himself as still as he could; afraid to interrupt. 

“She’s had a hard life…” Clint finally said, staring at the television’s flickering screen.  “Sometimes, it’s difficult for her to just stop for a moment.  She’s so used to moving forward as quickly as she can, she can sometimes forget that the people around her might need…”  He stopped abruptly and looked back at Steve. 

“Look, she can’t give me what I need and you do.” With that, he moved away from Steve and crossed his arms over his chest.  His eyes turned back to the television, a small scowl on his face. 

Steve reached across and placed a hand on the archer’s bicep.

“I told you I was a fucking girl…” Clint said, his posture stiffening. 

Before Steve realized what he was doing, he had closed the distance between them and encircled his arms around the archer.  After a moment’s hesitation, Clint relaxed and turned into the embrace. 

“Clint…me too,” Steve said low in his ear.  Clint pulled back and looked at him, quizzically. 

“You’re a fucking girl?” 

“Clint…”  The archer huffed out a small laugh and then encircled his arms around Steve.  After a small silence, he looked up into Steve’s eyes, his brows arching up. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Really,” said Steve and their mouths met in a soft, lingering kiss.  Something at the back of Steve’s mind still held a muffled shock that he was kissing a man but it was soon smothered by how warm and perfect this moment was.  When they separated, Clint’s mouth broke into a large grin. 

“What?” Steve couldn’t help asking. 

“Us,” he answered.  “Just…us…”

Steve couldn’t agree more.


End file.
